Boat is in the water, summer commences

I just launched the motorboat while wearing a set of patched and re-repaired neoprene waders some field mice made house in. In the left boot. Which made me smell like rodent urine from the boat ramp all the way around Grand Island at full throttle during the shakedown cruise. Now I need to figure out some vinegar soak solution to get the pee stink out of the waders.

The boat started on the second try (Honda four-strokes rule, mine is now on year eight) and runs smooth as can be. The boat is sitting on its mooring, first boat in the cove thanks to John Peck who recommissioned the pennant and put away the winter stick for me this past week.

Tomorrow is clamming time on the morning low tide. I’ll get my limit and start stacking up clams against the summer rush for chowder, stuffed hawgs, and other bivalve goodness. In the afternoon I’ll ferry the wife and dogs to Dead Neck for a trash pickup (lost lure discovery mission). Boat in water = happiness and end of winter couch potato.

R.I.P. White Rooster

via R.I.P. White Rooster.

On the topic of noble but dead birds ….l. some great Cape Cod writing by Bethany Gibbons on Cape Cod Today.

”¬† Skunk? Big red Jimmy got nailed by an owl. Maybe he was out too early that snowy morning. Whitey Bulger flew the coop and went on the lamb. My daughter insists he may be still hiding out in the swamp somewhere, living the wild and free life. I doubt it. The evil Spanish Black Minorca lost his head to a stump and some Lebanese friends. I couldn’t do, but after living through civil war and that cheese (arish?)¬†they leave out in the sun for weeks on a rooftop, they had no problem doing the dirty work. I just couldn’t have a 5-year-old lose and eye to a wicked bad rooster.”

I’m so impressed that her rooster will live on in many a saltwater fly pattern.